Angel's Worst Fear
by queenpearl
Summary: Some spoilers for "What Kind of Day It's Been"/ "In the Shadow of Two Gunman" and the episodes were set in Virginia, not California but I chose Cali. Sometimes we overlook one of the minor but most important characters in the POTUS' life. Air Force One has seen a lot, let's not forget that. What could she possibly have been thinking during this dark hour. Kennedy comes to mind.
Angel knew something was wrong the moment the security started swarming about. When the President's car was reported heading to JW she knew something was really wrong. "How bad is it?" She asked. The lead security agent looked up at her, debating his options. He could lie but Angel would see right through it. She'd been through these scenarios more times than she would have liked to. Sighing he decided to bite the bullet so to speak. "The President's been shot." It's said Angel's roar was heard across the state of California. Air Force One was now a plane on a mission. She would find the people who had hurt her leader and she would take them down!

...

*FLASHBACK, NOVEMBER 23, 1963 DALLAS TEXAS*

Angel sat on the tarmac waiting impatiently for her Commander in Chief to return from the motorcade through downtown. Not for the first time she envied her human master. She could never travel outside the airport. Whatever she knew of cities came from seeing them from the air. Fortunately she could tune in to the events via her radio. It was all routine, then something else was said that sent a chill through her blood. _"Something has happened, we're trying to find out. It appears shots were fired. I repeat, shots were fired."_ Angel cursed. It wasn't the first time someone had taken aim at the President. It was just part of the job. But it was worrisome every time. As the minutes passed and still no sign of the president or the motorcade, Angel knew something series must've happened. Someone getting hit was a definite possibility and it could be that the President had convinced his drivers to go to the hospital to treat an agent or something. Or maybe his wife got hit or god forbid he did! Angel had her answer when one of the agents who had been talking urgently through the radio came up to her, looking grim. "It's the President. How bad is it?" She asked. "He took two shots to the head, Angel." was all the agent managed to get out before the 707's wail drowned him and half the state out.

...

*END FLASHBACK*

Angel paced back and forth across the tarmac throughout the night, not pausing once to sleep or eat. President Kennedy's death occurred when she was a 707 but even as a 747 the memories still haunted her. She would not rest until she had conformation that the President was safe. She would not dare think of the alternative.

By dawn, she was bleary eyed, snappy, and her landing gear struts shook as they supported her weight. At last the sound of sirens reached her ears and she whirled towards it. Before President Bartlett even took one step away from the car Angel was on him. The Secret Service drew their weapons automatically but an airplane fondling over her human master wasn't something worth shooting over. The guns were put down and Angel was allowed to lick and nuzzle her president to her heart's content. She whined and whimpered, her tail drooping towards the ground in a submissive stance as she bowed before her master. She cried her worry for him. Bartlett couldn't understand her so the agent translated. "I was worried. I thought it would be like JFK all over again. When you didn't show up and I heard you'd been taken to JW, I thought..." Angel bowed her head, a low whine escaping her. Bartlett, feeling bad, pressed a soothing hand to her nose. And was promptly whacked on the back of the head by one of her winglets. "You are an idiot." Bartlett paused in the rubbing of the spot to glare at the agent. Was that amusement he was hearing in the man's voice? "You are truly an idiot. You could've just got in the car and drove away but nooo! You had to stay a bit longer than planned and entertain the crowds with your impeccable charm. Arrogant young bastard! Playing with death. You're the reason I'm turning white!" With a snort she jogged off, returning to her position on the tarmac. Bartlett at least had the grace to look sheepish as he boarded.

Angel may've been exhausted, but her takeoff was fast, her angle steep as she used the warm thermals rising off the hot California ground to rise gracefully into the sky.


End file.
